Selected
by EscapadesThruReality
Summary: A crossover of the Divergent and Selection trilogies. Tris Prior, a sixteen-year-old girl in the second-to-last caste of the Dauntless, has the chance of a lifetime to win the hand of Prince Tobias or his half-brother, Prince Uriah. This is the story of her journey, and how she established her image as the hero and rebel of the country.
1. Chapter One

"Beatrice!" my mother squeals excitedly while shaking the bedcovers. "Wake up, this is important!"

I grumble, and open my eyes. The light in the room blinds me, and I groan. "W-what's going on?" I mumble.

"The envelope's arrived. You'll need to fill it out."

I focus in on my mother's face. She is smiling from ear to ear, and her cheeks are flushed with exhilaration. Of course she would be full of energy. A chance like this would happen only once in a lifetime. Prince Tobias Eaton and his half-brother, Prince Uriah, were of age and eligible for a random selected amount of girls in the country fulfilling the age requirement. I could be one of these girls.

"Okay, Mom. I'll be downstairs in a heartbeat. Just let me get dressed." She nods, grinning, and closes the door behind her. I sigh.

I wasn't exactly sure if the Selection was my scene. I'm just Beatrice Prior, the unruly sixteen-year-old girl in the second to last caste, Dauntless. What would the princes want from me?

I quickly open my drawers, and scan for some clothes. The Dauntless caste wears black clothing to demonstrate their cause for bravery and strength. Being the second-poorest caste, next to the caste-less, we have to be strong to survive. Only a fraction of us survive in the poverty, and our only way out of this life is marrying out, enlisting in the royal guard, or being selected. My older brother, Caleb, married out to Erudite, the caste dealing with sciences and technology, and never looked back. I slip into a black V-neck shirt and black jeans, and head downstairs.

My mother is bouncing up and down eagerly, and she inhales sharply as she catches sight of me. "What took you so long? I need you to write the application." I shrug, and take the gold envelope. "To the Prior Family" is written in an intricate calligraphy in the middle. I brush my fingers over the script, and then gingerly open the envelope.

The paper is deliciously thick and soft. I unfold the letter with trembling hands, and read aloud. " Dear Beatrice," I begin as my mother squeezes my shoulder. "You, along with the other eligible girls in the country are given the opportunity of a lifetime. Prince Tobias Eaton and Prince Uriah Eaton are of age, and are looking for wives. You could be one of them. Please fill out the ticket enclosed, and you might be one of the twenty girls selected to enroll in the competition to win a prince's hand. Drop this ticket into the ballot at the closest town square by next Monday. Good luck. Sincerely, King Marcus Eaton."

I glance nervously at my mother, who nods, and whispers, "Go on." I grope for the ticket inside the envelope, and take it out. With a pen, I sign my name, birthdate, and caste. My mom gives me my headshot, the only headshot in fact we could afford to print, and I stick it on the designated spot. I bite my lip, and hand the ticket to my mother.

Together, we rush into the square, where several of my friends are situated. They too, are both thrilled and cautious, dropping their tickets into the ballot. My mother and I, holding hands, wait for the crowd to decongest. My mother stuffs the ticket through the small slot, and exhales, satisfied. I however, am staring off into the space, where a small glimpse, the shadow of a majestic castle is shown. What have I gotten myself into?


	2. Chapter Two

As we head back, my mother is walking lightly on her toes, and she whistles for the first time since Caleb left us. I look down at the broken pavement and smile to myself. I still feel uncertain about the whole thing, and I know that I won't even be chosen, but I am glad to see her happy.

I always thought my brother as cautious and selfless, like the Abnegation Caste, the highest caste before the royal family that handles the other branches of government. He helped everyone in Dauntless as much as possible, and he would make people smile with his kind demeanor. I never expected him to be an Erudite, eager to learn and greedy for knowledge type because he hid it away from us. My mother and father were so proud of him, and weren't aware of it either. However, after he turned seventeen, he eloped with Susan, and the only things at home left from him were textbooks and a pair of glasses.

I don't see myself that way. Power and wealth aren't what I search for in life. I love my family, and will never think twice about abandoning them. If I make it to the Selection, I will go and participate in the competition. Not for myself, but to provide a sense of stability for them. Undernourished and weak, my mother and father cannot afford another betrayal.

"I am going to purchase some food at the market," I say to my mother. "See you at home before dinner." She absent-mindedly nods, still whistling, and hands me the trivial amount of income she received yesterday. She hugs me and tells me to be safe, and we part ways.

The Pit is the least expensive market in our community, but it is unsafe as well. Some gangs hand around there, and it is right beside the chasm. One of my neighbors had died last week by falling backwards off of it and smashing his head on the rocks. It teaches us the balance between strength and recklessness.

"How much for a loaf of bread?" I ask one of the venders. He has greasy, graying hair, and yellowed teeth. He glances up at me, with one eye half-closed, and holds up seven fingers with shaking hands. I groan. Money is obviously scarce here, and prices soar higher than ever in desperation.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I only have four bills. Is that alright?" He frowns, but seeing that there is no other business elsewhere, he slowly nods, and I hand him the money. I pick the loaf that looks biggest in size and thank him. As I start to leave, however, he grabs my arm tightly with bony and pointed fingers. I gasp, and stare at him.

"It's a special day for you isn't it, my pretty?" he rasps, his voice cracking. "The week of the Selection."

"Yes, what's it to you?" I retort, a little sharper than I should.

He points at my chest with his other hand. "Choose wisely, dear." Then he lets go, and I back away quickly, a little freaked out. What does he mean? Is there a really a choice? I try to shake his words off of me as I hug my loaf of bread and briskly walk home in the chilling air.


	3. Chapter Three

We break the loaf into several pieces and heat them at the fire. My mother and father heartily eat their share, clearly hopeful and anticipating the slim possibilities of my better prospects. I, however, stare off into space, not focusing on anything but sometimes the blurred fragments of glowing light emanating from the fireplace. My thoughts overwhelm me, and I feel tired and slightly sick from the chaos of doubt battling through my head. I need to breathe.

I dismiss myself from the table quickly, and follow the familiar motions of preparing for bed. I turn on the faucet and carefully wash my face, wiping off the dust and grime. After rinsing my mouth, I let my ridiculously tangled blond hair fall down back to my shoulders and exhale deeply. My reflection in the mirror stares back at me. Her light blue-gray eyes are wide and hold a bit of a wild expression, and there are significant dark bags under her lids. My pale complexion is dull and gray from the dirt that catches in the air of my neighborhood. I am merely a girl, not beautiful nor yet grown up. Plain, like a small rough stone in the streets, is what I am.

My mother and father wish me a good night as I change into my nightclothes. I force a smile at them as I close my door, and settle into bed. Following protocol to prevent underage citizens from leaving, my mother locks the door. The air is quiet; the only sound interrupting the calm is my heavy breathing. I have no intention of actually falling asleep though. Until the strike of the clock signals curfew, and the bustle of the streets outside quiet down, I will wait.

When the city is finally still, and I let out a sigh of relief. It feels as if I were lying in bed forever, and I was growing restless and impatient. Hastily, I grab my worn black jacket, and carefully pry my window open. It gives in after a few attempts with a creak, and I catch my breath. Nothing reacts, so I swing my legs over the sill in a swift motion, and hoist my body slowly out of my room. Gripping the ledge, my feet search for and find a hold in the edge of the window below. I cautiously slide to the right of the windows to avoid the cement road.

This is one of the times when I like this place. With its low-ceiling floors, I am able to escape and roam the alleys after curfew without seriously injuring myself in the process. Squeezing my eyes shut, I allow myself to fall backwards. The thrill of the wind soars through me, and I roll as my body makes contact with the grassy earth to smoothen the impact. It feels almost like a test of bravery. It is as terrifying as it is exciting, falling backwards, but if done safely and correctly, I won't hurt myself.

I quickly brush the dirt off, and run through the alleys near the border of the city. The dark pathways used to intimidate me, but now they are rather familiar. I don't even think when my legs take me toward the broken carnival. Small clouds of my breath shroud the dimly lit light posts, and my throat is burning. I never feel more alive when running. It's an escape from the world I live in.

I continue to weave in and out the streets for ten more minutes, and then stop to catch my breath. Before me is an unkempt field with a large dilapidated Ferris Wheel in the center. If I climb to the top cart, there is an amazing view of the palace. I discovered the spot after Caleb left us in desperation for a place to hide away. Now, its a place I turn to whenever I feel small and unfree. Gripping the edges of carts and beams, I begin to climb. Cautiously, I test each bar and tentatively step upward to reach the cart at the peak of the structure. Focus, I tell myself. Keep a calm composure and do not look down. Face your fears.

The view is spectacular. Guided by several minuscule dots of light, the place looks almost like an electric circuit board. The castle, still extremely far away in the distance, is entirely covered with white. This place makes me feel free, because I reminded that I am infinite. The perspective from above demonstrates to me my place in this country. We are all lightbulbs, and with enough energy and determination, we will all persevere and possibly make something meaningful happen. My eyes are about to flutter closed with the serenity of it all when a shout interrupts me.

A figure in the gray clothing of Abnegation grasping a flashlight stands below. "What on Earth are you doing!?" he yells. I gulp. I am caught.


	4. Chapter Four

_Author's Note –_

_To those who have read this story, thanks so much! This is the first FanFiction that I've written ever, and working on it is an extremely fun pastime. Some of you may be disappointed that Tobias "Four" Eaton hasn't shown up yet in any of the chapters, but he will once the Selection commences, I promise! The plot will eventually lead to Four/Tris._

_Due to the fact that I have school, layered with swim practices and homework, time to write this is limited. However, I will try my best to update at least once a week. In addition, the recent chapters have been short, only 500-800 words. One goal I have is to have an average of 1000 + words per chapter. I'm getting there!_

_Please read and review, I really appreciate it._

I mentally smack myself in the head. The officer must have heard me running in the alleys, or been interrupted in his patrols by the hollow clanking of my hard-heeled boots against the metal beams. I should have been more careful to keep a low profile.

My cheeks flush with humiliation as I slowly climb down from the mangled structure. Frenzied thoughts surge through my mind, and my steps are miscalculated and hasty. Once lowering to around the center of the Ferris Wheel, the I lose the support of my right leg on the bar and start to topple downward. Startled, I let out a shrill scream. My shoulder bangs against one of the bars, and desperately, I grab blindly for anything. My hands grip the edge of a cart, and I close my eyes in relief.

I hear rushed footsteps, and remember the officer waiting for me below. He hurries closer to the wheel, and closer to me, as he calls with a squeaky and frightened tone, "A-are you all right?"

I nod shakily as I recover. "Yes, sir, but I'm a little stuck."

He chuckles a little, either in shock or derision at the awfully embarrassing state I am in. "Um, I can tell. Here, I'll help you down. Just— stay calm."

I am about to retort, "How are you going to help exactly? I'm on a goddamn Ferris Wheel and twenty feet in the air," but I keep my mouth shut. I'm already in enough trouble, and I shouldn't anger the man if I'm depending on him to get off this thing.

I stare at the sky impatiently. My palms are now sweaty, and I won't be able to hold for on much longer. A swallow catches in my throat, and unwillingly, my eyes shift downward. I am suspended high up in the air. Falling now could easily result in a broken neck. Attempting to tighten my hold on the ledge above, I silently beg for the officer to hurry up on whatever he is doing.

Suddenly there is a loud creak of rusted metal on metal, and I feel myself slowly moving toward the ground. The Ferris Wheel is turning. My stomach does somersaults, and I almost cheer. Eventually, the cart I am on is near the floor, and gasping, I let go of the edge and stumble in the dirt.

After straightening my jacket, I begin walk toward him to give my thanks and apologize for breaking the rules, but as I approach nearer, I catch a better look at him in the light. He doesn't look any older than I am, and he has a rounded face encased on top with cropped chestnut hair. Then realization hits me. He isn't one of the Abnegation officer, he is the town head's son! The corners of my mouth turn up gleefully because I know I will be able to escape without fault. "Thanks," I say, smirking, turning away, and start to run.

"W-wai—!" he yelps as I move farther and farther away from him. After a few seconds, he starts to give chase, but his pace is too slow. The wind whistles through my hair, and I feeling pleased with myself, I continue to run across the field until contours of three figures abruptly stop me. I breathe heavily and stand still. Although I can't make out who the figures are yet, but it's clear they aren't here for light conversation. I want to flee, but they will definitely follow me and discover the location of my house. The most I can do is be brave and display as much strength and pride that I can muster. They're most likely intoxicated, as they usually are, and I'll be able to handle them.

I am twelve inches from their leader's face when the Abnegation catches up to me. "What the hell—" he mutters angrily, and I elbow him.

"Shut up," I whisper.

"What do we have here?" the leader murmurs, tilting his head and staring at me. I hold my breath and refuse to back down from his glare. After a few moments, he shifts his attention. " Black's son, eh? It's a shame you're alone."

The boy beside me is shocked and frozen with fear. I have to help him. The leader lifts his arm, and throws a punch at the guy, but I block his blow, grabbing his forearm, and yank him away. Before he can react, I knee him in the groin and shove hard, sending him to the floor. His friend indignantly hits me on my side, and I wince. He grips my arm. I twist downward, hearing a small crack, and punch him in the face with my free fist. He tries to kick me, but I pull hard, and his backside lands under me in the dust. The last one doesn't seem keen to fight because he hurries away into the shadows.

Under the influence of adrenaline, I quickly grab the boy's hand, and we sprint out of there. He pants heavily, and I sigh and allow him to stop. "W-who... How did you do that?" he wheezes, coughing.

I smile, and reply, "I'm Dauntless."


	5. Chapter Five

An uncomfortable silence lingers as we stand in an abandoned street, with him bending over, catching his breath. I stand there awkwardly, lacing and unlacing my fingers. As I wait for him to recover, confusion settles over me as I replay the night's events in my head. "Black. Why did the leader call you Black's son?" I think to myself. I realize that I accidentally spoke my thoughts aloud, and grit my teeth.

"My father's name is Richard Black. I'm his son, Robert," He answers and glances up at me. He smiles politely. "What is your name?"

I meet his gaze. He has a familiar face. His eyes are a warm brown, and freckles are painted over the bridge of his nose. He has defined cheekbones that make the outline of his face slightly angular. I blink, and stare at him again. He looks like Susan. Susan—uh. Susan— Susan—Black. Black?! "Y-you know Susan?" I splutter bitterly.

His eyes widen slightly at my sudden outburst. "Yes, she's my cousin. Do you know her?"

I shake my head, fending off the resurrecting memories of Caleb, and deliberately gaze at the floor. "It doesn't matter."

Turning my back on him, I start to head for home, but a sharp pain on the left of my waist stops me. I cry out involuntarily and lose my balance. Robert's Abnegation personality prompts him to be immediately beside me, his eyebrows creased in concern. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." I mutter shakily.

"No, you're not," shoots back. "You hurt your side in the fight, didn't you? He punched you, didn't he?" Hastily, he searches in his pocket for something, and takes out a white bandage.

I want to be left alone. I don't need his assistance. I'm strong. I— "Don't—" I protest, but he ignores me. Robert kneels to my level and hands me the patch. I throw it back at him, and he gives me an irritated look.

"God, I'm only trying to help. Stop pushing me away." He roughly pushes the bandage back at me, and I sigh, too tired to fight with him. Lifting up my shirt slightly, I place the square patch over the bruised area, and stick it securely on. A warming sensation from the gels inside seeps into the sensitive spot, and I exhale. I have never been able to afford bandages and wraps with heating or any other kind of technology, and it feels amazing on my frozen, aching skin.

"Thanks." I murmur.

He smiles, on his feet, and reaches out his arm for me. I grasp his hand, pulling myself upright. "You still haven't told me your name, you know." he prompts with an air of amusement.

I blush. "It's Beatrice." He is about to ask me another question, but I cut him off. Our castes don't mix well, and I don't want to give anymore information of myself to him. His kindness and sympathy is merely a toxin that I can't have inside me. I'll only get hurt, and he'll make me weak. "Um, I've got to go. Thanks again." Gripping my side tightly, I quickly leave him and walk back towards home.


End file.
